


promise i will take care of you

by TooManyGaysTooLittleTime



Series: lord knows we chased it, love just rearranged us [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, As it should be, F/F, Gentle Dom Triss Merigold, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Light Dom/sub, Not Canon Compliant, Outdoor Sex, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Porn With Plot, Post-Battle of Sodden Hill, Post-Episode: s01e08 Much More, Praise Kink, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Soft Triss Merigold, Sub Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Unhappy Ending, a dramatically reduced amount of porn from the last one, but! there is still more to come from this series!, don’t be fooled this is soft as fuck, gratuitous shitting on netflix geralt, if that’s any consolation. there will be a happy ending but not in this fic lmao, there’s still some porn tho, yennefer gets lovingly and softly topped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime/pseuds/TooManyGaysTooLittleTime
Summary: After Sodden, Yennefer is missing, and Triss sets out to find her.
Relationships: Triss Merigold & Tissaia de Vries, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: lord knows we chased it, love just rearranged us [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084547
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	promise i will take care of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softietheartist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softietheartist/gifts).



> ahhh! welcome back to this series. turns out i wasn’t, in fact, done with it.
> 
> this is gifted to softie for encouraging the original to get a sequel. as you can probably tell by now, i am the most incredible pushover. 
> 
> thank you for 32 kudos on the first part of this series!!
> 
> please enjoy. 
> 
> (title possibly bastardised from “come home with me” by zolita which i highly recommend everyone reading this listens to.)

Triss feels like she’s burning up from inside, and that no amount of water can put out the flames. A pain like she’s never experienced before runs under her skin, licking hot, stinging trails over her body, and she arches her back, tries to cry out, but she has no voice left to scream with. 

Her eyes slide upwards, and she sees Yennefer there. Triss forgets all the hurt within her heart, as the pain she feels now supersedes it, and she nods at Yennefer reassuringly, trusting her to save them all from Niflgaard, for there seems nobody else who will. 

They exchange no words, only a glance charged with trust, but to Triss it is a balm upon the wounds that Yennefer scratched into her heart. Yennefer’s eyes are soft when upon Triss, but as she advances, extending a blood-soaked hand in front of her, potent, angry chaos roiling through the air around her, rage floods her violet gaze, and she becomes something other than human. Not quite a woman, not quite a monster. 

Yennefer thrusts her bloodied hand forwards, and a Niflgaardian soldier falls into the dirt, joining the others lying there. Another flick of her wrist, another Niflgaardian soldier dispatched. 

Triss knows that she should feel sorrowful for the loss of life, but right now she cannot bring herself to feel anything but vengeful, righteous anger. And she knows that Yennefer feels the same anger, only stronger and more powerful. 

At last, Triss finally allows herself to stop fighting, to rest at last. She has done all she can: now she must rely on Yennefer to save them all. And she has no doubt of Yennefer’s magical capabilities, nor of the power of Yennefer’s rage unleashed. 

Closing her eyes, Triss finally gives up, letting the burning pain sweep over her in waves. She does not matter any longer. Only Yennefer does. 

* * *

Triss opens her eyes quickly, expecting to still be in Sodden, but instead she only sees the darkness of an unlit room. She grabs at the covers binding her legs down, throws them aside carelessly, and slides off the bed. Her legs quiver beneath her, and she has to sink back down to sit upon the bed, hands resting loosely by her side. 

The last memory she has is of Yennefer, bloodied, damaged, yet still powerful, still angry, advancing to meet the remainder of the Niflgaardian army head-on. She remembers the hot, potent burn of the pain that had coursed through her body, and her limbs tremble with a phantom pain, the memory of it lancing through her skin. 

“Where am I?” she wonders to herself, fumbling in the darkness in an attempt to find a light. She thinks she knocks something over in her efforts, as she hears it thudding to the floor, but no candle or lantern offers itself up to her. 

Triss remembers her magic, then, and brings a small flare of light into life in the loop of her finger and thumb. She directs it around the room, shines it upon a metal door handle. Immediately she runs to the door, pulls it open and emerges into a corridor that she is familiar with. 

Aretuza. Of course. 

She still has the layout of the academy memorised, and it takes her little time to find Tissaia’s office. The door is closed, and Triss hammers upon the door with a closed fist, trying to disturb Tissaia from whatever rest she may be having, or whatever job she may be doing. 

Tissaia opens the door looking disgruntled. “I thought I had asked not to be disturbed—oh, Triss Merigold. You have returned to us, then.” 

“Yes, I have.” she replies. “Now, tell me what happened, Rectoress. I need to know.” 

“Why, there is not much to be said,” Tissaia says, returning to sit at her desk, where a map lies spread across the flat of it. “Yennefer unleashed her chaos and destroyed the Niflgaardian army that was sent against us. In the fight, though, we lost Vilgefortz, and despite our best efforts, we still cannot find Yennefer.” 

The mention of Yennefer’s plight strikes up a fierce determination within Triss. “I swear to Melitele that I will recover Yennefer.” 

Tissaia spins around sharply. “Careful, Triss. There are still burns from the injuries you received, and the healers doubt the scars will ever fully heal.” 

“I don’t care.” Triss says, the heat of the moment making her bold. “I have to rescue Yennefer.” 

Running a hand across the map to smooth it down, Tissaia frowns. “You are either very foolish or very brave, Triss Merigold. I’m inclined to think that you are a little bit of both.” 

Triss exhales, the corner of her lip curling upwards. “Is that a yes?”

“It will be dangerous,” warns Tissaia. “The Niflgaardians still roam the area, and we have reason to believe that Vilgefortz might be working for them. He’s still out there, unchecked. And even if you find Yennefer, it is likely that she will have injuries from the battle.”

“I know,” says Triss, adrenalin coursing through her. “I can handle it.”

“Are you sure you want to go it alone?” Tissaia asks. “I believe some mages are nearly recovered by now. If you wait a short while, they may be able to assist you.” 

Triss advances towards Tissaia, states her in the eyes. “Yennefer could be bleeding out _right_ _now_. There is no time left to waste.” 

She thinks she sees Tissaia’s eyes turn glassy. “Be safe, Triss,” she says, clasping a motherly hand over her wrist. 

“I’ll try,” Triss reassures her. “But I make no promises.”

With that, she leaves Tissaia’s office, and runs to the portal leading out of Aretuza. She waves a hand, intones “Sodden Hill,” as she steps into the portal, and moments later she is stumbling out, into the wreckage of the battle’s aftermath. 

* * *

When Triss finds her at long last, Yennefer is lying at the foot of a hill, a withered and warped tree perched proudly upon the crest of the hill. Triss runs to her immediately upon catching sight of her, dress snatching around her ankles, and she falls to her knees beside Yennefer, hand already reaching out to wipe the blood away from Yennefer’s cheeks. 

“Yennefer, what happened?” Triss asks, voice soft as she stares down at the other woman. 

“Triss, is that you?” Yennefer’s voice is weak, disbelieving. “Really you?” Her hand struggles upwards, reaching for Triss’s face, wavering in midair. It seems strange to Triss at first, Yennefer’s questions, her awkward manoeuvring of her hand, but then she looks at Yennefer again, properly this time, and sees Yennefer’s eyes, unseeing despite how they are trained upon Triss’s face. 

Pangs of sympathy course through Triss. “Yenna… are you blind?”   
  
Yennefer nods, vigorously, hand coming up with more surety to grab at Triss’s face. It’s the first time that Triss has seen Yennefer weak—truly weak—and it disconcerts her. She holds Yennefer’s wrist, guides her hand up to cup her cheek. “I’m here, Yenna,” she whispers, the affectionate nickname slipping out unthinkingly. “I’ll stay with you.”

A slight moan from Yennefer, but Triss cannot tell whether it is a moan of pain or happiness. Then: “Kiss me, Triss. Prove you’re really Triss, and not some—Niflgaardian” she spits out the word vengefully “—agent come to capture me.”

“How can you tell that I’m Triss?” Triss asks Yennefer, internally hating herself for it. 

Yennefer swallows slowly, uncertain for a moment, before she speaks with confidence flooding through her voice. “Don’t pretend that I don’t know what you taste like, Triss Merigold.”

“Oh, I thought you didn’t want to talk about that?” Triss knows that Yennefer is injured, that she should be helping her rather than getting angry, but she can’t hold herself back. The dam that had previously held back all the heartbreak and the pain bursts in anger, and Triss’s voice grows louder. “I thought it was supposed to be our shameful little secret?”

Against her cheek, Yennefer’s hand is still there, the warmth not quite leached from her fingertips. It grounds Triss, even though she tries to convince herself that she hates anything Yennefer does to her. When Yennefer speaks again, her tone is soft, regretful. 

“I’m sorry, Triss,” she whispers. “So damn sorry.” And it’s so unlike Yennefer, so soft where there is usually sharpness, bittersweet when she’s usually only bitter, that Triss finds herself believing her, despite part of her insisting that it is foolish of her to fall for the same trick again. 

She strokes Yennefer’s hair, crusted with dried blood, away from her face, wipes the darkened blood off Yennefer’s cheeks. Yennefer softens under her touch, relaxes into Triss’s arms, peaceful, and a pang of stupid, foolish love runs through Triss. 

“I think I’m going to kiss you now, then,” whispers Triss, feeling herself balanced on a knife-edge of uncertainty. “Prove it’s really me.” She leans downwards, holds Yennefer’s face in her hands tenderly, and, closing her eyes to let the darkness fill her vision, kisses Yennefer. At first it is tentative, soft, almost sweet, Yennefer’s mouth slackening as Triss’s lips press against hers. Then, drawn in by the warmth and promise of Yennefer’s mouth, Triss weaves her tongue in between Yennefer’s teeth, sliding into Yennefer’s mouth to turn the kiss harsher, fiercer. She bites at Yennefer’s bottom lip as she does so, not hard enough to bring blood but hard enough that Yennefer feels it, and a moan falls from Yennefer’s lips, caught within their kiss.

“You’ve been a bit of a bad girl, Yenna,” says Triss as she leans over the other woman, breath hot against Yennefer’s cheek. “Stringing me along like that. And bad girls get punished.”

She feels Yennefer’s breathing hitch, sees Yennefer bite down hard upon her lip. “Yes, Triss.”

“Don’t worry, Yennefer,” Triss says to her, threading gentle fingers through her hair. “I’ll take care of you, but you’d better behave for me.” 

Eagerly, Yennefer nods, hand curling around Triss’s neck. “Kiss me again, please, Triss.”

“That’s my good girl,” says Triss approvingly. She kisses Yennefer again, a gentle press of lips without tongue or teeth, and feels Yennefer soften under her, sinking into the kiss.

Triss pulls away, slides her hand down Yennefer’s body, over the torn and dirtied dress she still wears, parting the curtain of rope surrounding Yennefer’s legs to bare her to Triss’s hands. She licks her fingers slowly, agonisingly slowly, getting them slick and wet with her spit before she puts them into Yennefer.

“I could have done that for you,” smiles Yennefer, a sappy, honey-sweet smile beaming up at her.

“You just need to relax, sweetheart, and sit back,” says Triss as she moves onto another finger. “I’ll do all the work of taking care of you.”

Yennefer moans at that, a soft, loose moan, as she settles into Triss’s arm, pillowing her head upon it. “You’re so good to me, Triss.”

“Mm,” Triss murmurs back, quiet, gentle. “That’s because you’re being so good today, Yenna. You deserve to be looked after.”

She rests her head in the crook of Triss’s arm, violet eyes sweet, loving, trusting. “Thank you, Triss.”

Triss finishes wetting her fingers and reaches through the cords of Yennefer’s skirt, pulls her underthings down. Yennefer’s legs clamp together, slight tremors passing up and down them. To assuage Yennefer’s fears, Triss leans down and kisses her lips again, pressing lightly and gently. Slowly, Yennefer works her thighs back open again, allowing Triss to slide her hand between them.

Triss’s fingers dip down, sliding into Yennefer without much resistance. Hips buck against her hand, and Yennefer’s groan is heavy, weighted, potent. She presses in, in, in, a single finger at first to prepare Yennefer for those to come, pushing in and then out in a steady motion.

“Please, more,” Yennefer sighs, breath heated against Triss’s arm. Her cheek is damp and warm against bare skin, the dark blood cleaned away so her skin is smooth and soft.

Triss works another finger into Yennefer, slowly as Yennefer clenches around the intrusion. “Who am I to decline when you are laid out so prettily, taking my fingers so well,” she whispers, kissing at Yennefer’s cheek. “You’re being a good girl for me, such a good girl for me.”

She starts increasing the pace of her thrusts steadily, hand sliding in and out of Yennefer smoothly. Yennefer’s legs begin to close around her hand, trying to pin it there, and Triss can tell that Yennefer grows nearer to coming, but there is still more to go before she will allow Yennefer to come.

Triss licks her fingers again, tastes Yennefer upon them, warm and sweet. “Sweetheart, you taste so good,” she coos, smacking her lips appreciatively. Before she resumes her thrusting, though, Triss stares downwards at Yennefer with a softly-delivered command in her eyes.

“Yenna, I know you were seeing someone else, too, you bad girl. Was it that witcher, Geralt of Rivia?”

Guilted, Yennefer nods. “Wanted you more, though. Couldn’t stop going to him—it was like something was forcing us together.”

“Well, we’re going to fix that, aren’t we?” Triss smiles cheerily. “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll never want another again. Especially not that _witcher_ ,” she adds derisively.

“I want you to tell me exactly how good I make you feel. I want to hear you screaming my name so hard that Geralt of Rivia hears it wherever he is and knows that you are his no longer. Got it?”

“Yes,” gasps Yennefer, hips automatically lifting towards where Triss’s hand lies flat upon her thigh. “Oh, Melitele, a thousand times yes.”

“Very good,” declares Triss, leaning down to kiss Yennefer upon the lips. Her tongue slides between teeth momentarily before she pulls away, sitting up to slide her hand into Yennefer.

“This is far better than Geralt’s cock ever was,” Yennefer groans as Triss begins thrusting three fingers in and out in earnest, hard and fast.

“Mm, guess I’m not that satisfactory yet?” muses Triss, drawing her hand away. She lifts her little finger to her mouth. “I can give you four fingers. Or my whole hand, should you really want it.”

Yennefer gulps, and she is so taken aback that it takes her a moment to respond. “N-no. Your whole hand won’t be necessary. But four fingers... I think I could, ah, manage that.”

“Very good,” Triss says thoughtfully, resting her palm on Yennefer’s stomach and sliding downwards, cupping her there for a moment. “You’re so hot for me. Were you ever like this for him?”

“Never,” Yennefer shakes her head proudly. “He was never able to make me feel like this.”

Triss lines her hand up ready to slide into Yennefer. “Excellent, sweetheart.” She runs her fingers through Yennefer’s hair, pulls it away from her face. “You ready for four fingers now?”

“Yes. Just- not all at once. Bit by bit.”

A single finger smoothly slides into Yennefer. “Anything you ask for, sweetheart.” She pulls it out, presses another one in to join it. “How’s that?”

“Oh, sweet Melitele, it’s so good,” Yennefer gasps. “But... I want more, Triss.”

“And you will get it.” Triss smiles as she adds another finger, pushing them together in a crude imitation of a cock. “I’m thicker than him, am I not?” she jests with her fingers inside Yennefer.

“Yes... you’re so much thicker... you fuck me so well, Triss,” Yennefer’s words are turning into mindless babble. “Still another finger to go, though...”

“As I said, whatever you need, whatever you want, I’m going to give it to you,” she states, lifting one of Yennefer’s thighs to lay in her lap to allow her to slide the fourth finger in more easily. “And I always keep my promises, Yenna.”

Yennefer clenches violently around her, the heat and the tightness exquisite to Triss. “Triss, oh Triss—I’ve never been fucked so well—better than any other lover I’ve had— _oh_ , just like that, Triss, _yes_ —” The rest of her words fall away as Triss increases the speed of her thrusts, driving hard and fast into Yennefer to finish her off. 

When Yennefer comes, she lets out a small shriek before flopping, boneless, into Triss’s arm, still cradling her. For a moment neither of them speaks, the wind twisting through the deadened leaves above them. 

“You haven’t come yet,” murmurs Yennefer into Triss’s arm. “You should.” 

Triss gives her a small smile, answers with a noncommittal hum, even though she’s still heated from sex and resisting the urge to bring herself off. “It’s fine.”

Yennefer, though, is clearly set upon this, for she is insistent. “Triss, I want you to bring yourself off for me. I know you want to do it, as well.” She takes Triss’s loose wrist, slides Triss’s skirts up her legs. “I want to look you in the eyes as you come.” Her violet gaze is stern, commanding, and Triss hurries to press her hand to the apex of her thighs. At the first rub, she lets out an easy, languid moan, arousal quickening rapidly under her skin. 

“Yes, exactly like that,” encourages Yennefer, running her hand up one of Triss’s thighs. 

Triss groans, rubs herself harder and faster, feeling her climax grow nearer. As she is about to come, Yennefer’s voice cuts through the quiet gasps and moans that fill the air. 

“Look at me,” Yennefer commands, and Triss does, not stopping her rubbing for a single moment as her eyes fix upon Yennefer’s. She comes with her mouth softly opened, Yennefer’s name upon her tongue, tasting heady and indulgent. 

Her body goes limp and languid after that, and she stretches out next to Yennefer, skirts still hoisted up around her thighs. The sky is bright blue above them, and Yennefer is by her side at last. 

* * *

Returning to Aretuza is a matter of contention between them; while Triss does not mind staying in the academy until she is fully healed, Yennefer stubbornly insists that she go elsewhere. 

“But Yenna,” Triss argues, “you’re still injured, damn it! I can’t allow you to leave without protection!”

Yennefer raises her hands, her fingertips darkened, points to her eyes, still eerily unseeing. “You mean this? I’ve experienced worse before and come out of it fine.”

Annoyance flares up in Triss. “If you insist on not returning, then how will you be healed?”

Dismissively, Yennefer shrugs. “I know people who can help me. They’ll return my sight to me.”

“And then—then you’ll come back to Aretuza?”

Yennefer laughs, callously. “I don’t think I’ll be returning to Aretuza any time soon. There’s something out there awaiting me, and I want to find it.”

“This is goodbye, then,” Triss whispers, tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Through a glassy film of tears, she looks up at Yennefer, this woman that she loves so dearly and will never have. “Goodbye, Yennefer of Vengerberg. May our paths meet again.”

“Goodbye, Triss,” Yennefer says softly. She turns away, but Triss thinks that she can see tears in Yennefer’s eyes too.

* * *

“Did you find Yennefer? Tell me,” Tissaia demands, rushing Triss to her office. 

She blinks away the tears in her eyes. “I did, but...”

Tissaia’s stern exterior melts a little, and she places a steadying hand around Triss’s shoulders. “What happened with Yennefer, Triss?”

Triss settles into the rectoress’s chair, resisting the urge to sob uncontrollably with her head buried in her hands. “She’s gone and fucking left us all. And she’s been blinded, as well. I can’t believe it—”

“Oh, Triss,” Tissaia murmurs, wrapping her in a tight hug. “It will be okay. We shall find Yennefer, for she can’t have gone far.”

She looks up, an objection already upon her lips. “No. It’s her choice to leave us, and you have to respect that, Tissaia.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, an argument dies upon Tissaia’s lips, and she nods, acceptance finally settling in. “Fine. If that is Yennefer’s choice, then I shall respect that. It doesn’t mean that I like it any more, though.”

Triss nods. “I do hope Yennefer is safe.”

Tissaia comes to stand at her shoulder, staring at the map rolled out upon the desk. “Me too.”

“And that she returns to me,” Triss adds, looking upwards at Tissaia. “Do you think she will return?”

A frown wrinkles Tissaia’s brow. “It is difficult to tell, for Yennefer is something different, something unique. But, if it is any consolation, I do think that Yennefer will return, though not to me. It is you that Yennefer cannot keep away from.”

Something glows in Triss, then, and she smiles. “Then I shall stay waiting for her.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are welcome!! i love hearing your thoughts.


End file.
